


like a fiery beacon

by damerons (noblydonedonnanoble)



Category: Sucker Punch (2011)
Genre: Choking, Desk Sex, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:42:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29516892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/damerons
Summary: Too many girls not taking men to the back rooms means that Blue isn’t making enough money.And when Blue doesn’t make enough money… you hear about it, in a way.
Relationships: Blue Jones/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	like a fiery beacon

Blue is mouthy tonight.

Most of the customers stayed away because of a snowstorm, and hardly any of the ones who showed up wanted to pay for more than drinks and the show. Too many girls not taking men to the back rooms meant that Blue wasn’t making enough money.

And when Blue doesn’t make enough money… you hear about it, in a way.

When he pulls you into his office and immediately presses you against the door, tasting you. Tasting the wretched client who you let come inside your mouth.

“I hope you charged extra for the privilege of coming in that pretty little mouth,” he breathes. His grip is tight on your hips as he speaks, pressing you against the door with a forcefulness that betrays the anger simmering beneath the surface of gentle murmurings about your _pretty little mouth_.

“Always do, Blue,” you whisper back. You bite at his bottom lip, making him groan, and he releases his hold on you to fumble for the doorknob to lock everyone out.

Lock you in.

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Blue pulls back his face just enough so that you can actually focus on his eyes, hooded lids and dark pupils _igniting something_ in your gut. “You’ll take whatever _little_ fantasies they have, and you’ll make them real, won’t you? Let them imagine that they’re _so filthy_ for wanting…”

He trails off, raising his eyebrows. This is where you fill in the blank. He always wants to know. “Teacher/student roleplay.” He always wants to know, despite the fact that anger flashes across his expression at once—doesn’t like thinking of you with someone else, but doesn’t like not knowing what you did with those someones. You twist the knife further. “We pretended he was fucking me on his desk.”

“Oh, did you?”

You nod. Hum your confirmation.

Blue leans in close to you again, but this time it is not to kiss you. His lips brush against your ear an instant before you feel his teeth against the lobe. A gentle graze turns into a firm bite, sending shivers through you. “Did he make you come?”

This is the question you were dreading, because you know the answer is not what he wants to hear. Blue loves the nights when the clients leave you shivering but unsatisfied. He loves to be the one that finally pushes you over the edge. And in so many other respects, he’s had a _shit_ night—you, standing there before him with unfulfilled desire would make things a hell of a lot better.

So you try to qualify the statement, murmuring, “Not like you do.”

He presses you against the door again, harder, as he groans. “Of course you came. Like the fucking needy whore you are, isn’t that right?” Blue’s mouth has been trailing along your jaw, and now he lingers at your mouth again. He’s close enough that you can feel the smirk pulling at his lips, but he’s not kissing you. Wouldn’t kiss you after you reveal something like that.

Your breaths are coming more rapidly, your chest heaving against his. All you can think about are his fingers, clutching you so hard you might bruise. His breath hot against your lips.

And it doesn’t matter that you just let a stranger fuck you—you need Blue inside you.

“I need _you_ ,” you whimper. “Need you more. Always, Blue.”

That, at least, was what he wanted to hear. He exhales a stuttering breath and grinds his pelvis against yours. “That’s right. Who needs to pretend that one of those big, fancy beds is a desk when they have one nearby?”

Blue isn’t talking about _desks_ here, not really, but he does roughly steer you toward his anyway. The edge hits your ass hard when he presses you against it and leans in to kiss you again.

When you make it this far into his office – when he doesn’t fuck you desperately against the door – he normally likes to bend you over. Make you clutch the desk for dear life while he takes you from behind.

Now, though, he’s feeling territorial, and it’s in these moments when he unintentionally reminds you that he cares about you just a bit more than he’d like.

(And a lot more than he’s supposed to.)

So he lifts you by the waist and sets you on the desk. He kisses you hungrily while you tug his jacket off and unbutton his shirt, and his fingers make quick work of his belt and the zip on his trousers.

But again: Blue is mouthy tonight.

Mouthy as he slides your skirt up and realizes that you came to him with no panties on: “You’re a fucking tease, sweetheart. Always just waiting for someone to fuck you.”

Mouthy as you free his aching cock from his trousers: “Can’t get enough of my cock, can you? As if you don’t take enough of them every night, you just need to be a dirty whore with me, too.”

Mouthy as he fills you a little too fast, a little too hard, and it makes you flinch but it also makes you fucking moan: “You wanna fucking hurt, don’t you? Know I’ll take it farther than your pathetic fucking clients. Make you scream in every way.”

And it might turn you on more if it weren’t for the fact that you know it’s for him. Tonight, when you let a stranger come in your mouth and Blue hasn’t made nearly enough money, he’s saying these things for him.

You wrap your legs around him, see his lips part to say something else, and without really thinking, you slap a hand over his mouth.

He stills deep inside of you, eyes darkening—with arousal or anger or both.

(Definitely both.)

You bite your lip, holding his gaze and trying to work out what he’s going to do now. Slap you? Move you to the fucking floor and have you blow him, instead?

Blue lifts a hand, and you are certain it’s going to be a slap. You inhale sharply, instinctively, waiting for the strike. Part of you craves it.

Instead, the pads of his fingers settle on your cheek. They lightly trace over your skin while you stare at each other, and you feel the way his cock twitches inside you when you lick your lips. Is he going to put those beautiful fingers in your mouth?

No. His hand trails down further, coming to rest at your throat. You realize what he’s doing a split second before his gentle grip becomes tighter.

The pressure is intoxicating, dizzying, in the most real sense of the word, and you let out a fractured moan as he pushes you backward, laying you out against the desk. And the thing that fucking gets you – that might fucking _end_ you – is that Blue follows. His face remains inches from yours, that heady mixture of anger and desire simmering in his gaze.

Then, mercifully, he begins to move. He thrusts into you hard, over and over, building up a frantic pace that makes you clamp your hand harder over his mouth; makes him clutch your neck so tight that his rings begin to burn exquisitely against your skin while you strain to breathe.

With your free hand, you reach down between your sweaty bodies to touch your clit, and from the way Blue’s brow momentarily furrows, you think he might stop you—grab your hand and press it against the desk so that you have no choice but to free up his mouth if you want to give yourself any satisfaction.

But he just goes faster. Harder. Loosens his grip on your throat just enough for you to take a gasping breath before he tightens it again.

And oh, do you start to writhe. You aren’t at your climax yet, not quite, but you’re fucking close and he feels it, the way your pussy pulses around him as he fucks you. You hear a growl emanating from deep within his throat a moment before he bites your palm.

You can barely get out a whimper as you come. You’re a trembling, desperate mess, your head leaning back to seek air that Blue barely gives you. As he continues to rush toward his own release, your legs tighten around him and you raise your pelvis to meet his, pulling him in deeper. Both of you moan—you from the overstimulation, Blue as he finally spills himself inside of you.

He doesn’t let up on your throat until he feels your body soften and go pliant beneath him, and it’s only then that you take your hand from his mouth.

For the briefest of moments, Blue is tender. His gaze lands on your throat, taking in the marks you know he must have left there.

Even as you’ve been straining for breath, you find yourself suddenly still when his fingers trace over your skin gently. So gently. You want him to kiss you there, a longing that hurts you with its intensity.

“Take tomorrow off so this has time to clear up.”

And then he is gone, and you are dismissed.

That hurts more.


End file.
